Sweet Nothing
by Light My Words
Summary: She'd been to crime scenes, found murder dungeons and torture chambers, but never anything like this. When Jane finds a woman who shouldn't be alive, huddled up in a dark corner with a little girl, there's no other option other than to take the pair in and show them life is more than the basement they've known.
1. The Dark

This place was truly hell. It wasn't just dark, it was black, completely devoid of light. There was nothing shining through cracks under the doors or between the joins of curtains to highlight the room, nothing but her flashlight and the beams of the two men behind her. She'd been to crime scenes, found murder dungeons and torture chambers, but never anything like this. The house was in the middle of no where, a run down shack with boarded windows and peeling paint. The flower beds were empty and the weeds outside drooped in the sun, as if too tainted by the evil surrounding it to grow. The floorboards inside creaked and bent under her weight, and the carpet in what was designed to be a living room was damp and moulding. The kitchen was torn to shreds and smelt strongly of cigarette smoke and destruction, the fridge door hanging off its hinges, hardly disguising the old jar of something that used to be edible. The entire place was eery, as if every inch of the abandoned shack was crawling with traumatised souls that we're long gone from this earth. Not that Jane believed in that sort of thing.

From behind her she heard a floorboard give way, and it took all she had to restrain a sound of surprise. "Fuck," muttered one of the men, retracting his foot from only God knows what lay beneath the old flooring. She heard the other whisper something jokingly under his breath to relieve the tension, but she could only focus on the path ahead of her. She paused for a moment, shining light over the walls while Korsak regained his bearings, and his foot. She wanted to express her horror at what she saw on those walls, but nothing would come out. Drawings, in crayon and something else dark and brown and dirty. Children's drawings, little stick figures with flowers and grass and smiling faces, and then crosses and splatters marked over the top in dried blood. What had gone on in is house, she had very little knowledge of, and it terrified her and forced her to walk on all the same.

They'd cleared two locked rooms, empty and mouldy and in character with the rest of the building. Now there was no where to go but down, and even though she was brave, it took a lot of nerve and a lot of swallowing to push open the basement door and shine her flash light down the stairs. Nothing much was visible, the dark was so over powering and impenetrable that the light barely reached a step in front of her. She should have been using the rail to guide her, but she didn't want to risk touching something that would make her stomach churn more than it already was. It was unlike the last time she'd raced down the stairs of a basement, that horrifying night when her own personal monster had blind-sighted her and instilled in her the worst kind of fear anyone could ask for. The memories. This time she just needed to remind herself that no one was waiting at the bottom of those stairs for her, and she had two very trustworthy men behind her that would die before something happened to her, the same way she would for them.

Ahead of her there was a scatter or a rattle, or something that the three of them hadn't created. She paused on the step third from the ground.  
"Boston Police Department, it's okay we aren't here to hurt you." Her words came out a little shakier than normal as she scrambled down the last three stairs. A cord dangling from the crumbling roof caught her eye as she shone her light around in vain. Reaching out, she grasped it firmly and gave it a tug until something clicked over and a small dying lightbulb flickered a few times before coming to life. It was old, and hadn't been used much as a layer of dust crept up her nose and threatened irritation with the movement of the chain. It took a few minutes to cut through the dark like a knife through flesh and once warmed up the three detectives were afforded the view of a small concrete room, wooden roof caving in. It smelt like death, raw and harsh and Jane could almost taste the metallic bitterness of blood through her nose and on her tongue. There were more drawings down here, over walls and floors and there were still a few select crayons off to one corner. That's when she caught the source of the movement, the rustle of skin against material in the far corner of the room, still hidden in the shadow of darkness. She walked slowly, flashlight and gun trained at the ready. It wasn't at all what she expected.

A fully grown woman, small and frail and curled in on herself. Her dark blonde curls were a tattered mess, knotted and twisted yet somehow still cherubic. Unlike the little girl clasped firmly in her chest, the woman met Jane's surprised glance. Her eyes were the shape of almonds, and were a wonderful mix of green and topaz with specks of wisdom and fear. The younger girl squirmed and the woman whispered something, never taking her eyes from Jane. She was made up of mostly bruises and pain, and for a moment the detectives stood in awe of the fact that they'd found one of his victims alive.  
"It's okay," Jane spoke quietly, afraid to startle the being that looked so fragile. "I'm a police officer, I'm going to get you out of here. Can you stand?" The men behind her took a few quiet steps back, and Jane smiled her warm, protective smile and put her gun away with slow movements. It took a few moments of an extended hand before anyone moved. The blonde pushed herself to her feet, pain flashing through her eyes as she did so, but refused to take the hand offered to her. She kept the child attached to her front, her thin scrawny arms wrapped tightly and protectively around the little girl with darker curls. Jane Rizzoli found herself nauseated at the thought of just how that child came to be in this world.

The blonde moved hesitantly toward the stairs, only continuing when she felt the other woman's presence firmly behind her, arm outstretched around her shoulders without actually making contact. It took them a little while to make it back up the stairs and through the building before pushing through the front door. The woman and the child both cowered from he sunlight outside, and Jane had to wonder how long it had been since they'd seen natural light, whether it was something the little girl had ever seen. After opening the car door for the blonde to sit, Frost and Korsak decided on one last sweep of the house while Jane found out what she could. In order to not seem intimidating, the brunette crouched by the unmarked police vehicle.  
"I'm Detective Jane Rizzoli, what's your name?" Her question was gentle, tilting her head in an effort to get a better look at the little girl while the woman pondered answering.  
"Maura," she croaked after a little while, sweeping a mess of hair from her face.  
"Hi Maura. Is this your little girl?" A nod. "What's her name?"  
"Gracie" She replied, voice quieter this time.  
"That's a really pretty name. Hello Gracie." There was no response from either.

Jane had questions that followed, such as how long she'd been there and if anyone else was in the house, but she didn't get a reply. There was nothing more than blank stares and the faint sound of Maura's once white gown rubbing against the leather car seat as she rocked carefully back and forth. Whether it was for her daughter or for her own comfort, Jane didn't know.

* * *

It was bright, blinding and before she could comprehend what was happening, Gracie let out a shrill scream and her arms tightened instinctively, pulling back from the gloved hands grasping at her. Her heart rate picked up, and her eyes darted around the room in panic. She could only pick up the silhouettes of the people around her, eyes still trying in vain to adjust to the hospital lights. Bile made its way up from her stomach, but she pushed it down as she scrambled backwards, Gracie clutched tightly to her chest. There was a part of her that had very little fight left, a part that wished she could have given up a long time ago and given into death and whatever dark void that came after. The other part of her, the bigger part was a mother, and would fight to the death for her little girl. The people around her were speaking, but they were all speaking so fast and at the same time, that her mind was struggling to take it in. She'd been alone for so long, with only Gracie' s little tone and her own mind that it was overwhelming to hear so much at once. When someone grasped the toddler and tried to pull again, Maura let out a fierce scream. It wasn't until she heard the voice from the house that she settled. Her eyes had adjusted a little better to the light, and she could make out the nurses and the doctor standing in front of her in what had to be an emergency room. The woman was to her right, hand reached out without touching her.

"Maura, it's Jane. It's okay, they're not going to hurt Gracie. They just want to makes sure you're both healthy." Her voice was raspy but strangely soft and sweet. She was calm and patient and waited for Maura to loosen her grip on the little brunette. "I'm going to stay right here, okay. I'll make sure they don't hurt you, and if they do something you don't like, we'll make them stop." Jane reached out slowly, helping Maura seat Gracie on the bed beside her. The blonde was still hesitant, and she held onto the little girls hand, who in term buried her head in her mother's shoulder. It was heart breaking to see the terror reflected in both sets of hazel eyes.

Jane made sure throughout all their tests, the pair stayed together. After her initial fight, Maura sat hypnotically still and let the nurses go about their jobs. She didn't say a word, just continued rubbing her thumb in slow circles on the palm of her little girls hand. The victims Jane encountered were rarely alive and there was suddenly nothing more confronting than dealing with someone that had been through all the same torture and pain but had managed to live through it. The vacancy in the blondes eyes was terrifying, and it was then that Jane realised she couldn't sit back and watch this woman be thrust back into society with very little help. She was going to help in any way she could, and if that meant taking the two in and showing them that life was more than that small treacherous dungeon, then that was what she was going to do.


	2. The New

I'm back! I've been struggling to write for this because I was really unhappy with how the last chapter turned out. So I've re-written it, and should be back to updating as regular.

* * *

She was granted her four weeks leave the day she heard Maura and her daughter were being discharged from hospital. It had been almost three weeks since they'd pulled both girls from the shack tucked away on the outskirts of Boston, and Jane hadn't taken her mind from them. Unlike she'd hoped, she'd been unable to spend the majority of her time at the hospital, as she still technically had a case to work, and while Korsak and Frost gave her a great deal of leeway it wasn't something they could solve alone. Jane had spent a long time trying to figure out more about the honey blonde in the hospital room, as Maura had done nothing but provide her first name and her prints weren't in any of the data bases she'd thought to look. It was proving more difficult than she had originally hoped, and even paired with a rough sketch of what she might have looked like at the time of her potential abduction, Jane was turning up nothing of substance. She'd assumed from the history that the doctors had provided upon their examination, that Maura had been in her early adult years when she was taken captive. Unlike Gracie, Maura's x-rays were littered with poorly healed broken bones and fractures. Her abdomen showed extensive bruising and healing wounds that they'd suggested had been made by constant whipping, and she heavily favored her right arm due to a still-healing dislocated shoulder. Fortunately the little girl was rather healthy considering the situation in which she'd grown up in to this point, and it was the only solace Jane could find.

Gracie had warmed up to Jane rather quickly, and the detective was relieved to find that her childhood seemed to have very little impact on her innocence. She liked to play pretend, just like any other child her age, and was particularly fond of coloring and drawing pictures. These portraits she gave to almost everyone she met and Jane had graciously accepted one every time they met. She had responded quite well to the change in scenery, and the doctors and child psychologists that had been in touch with the bubbly girl suggested that her father hadn't laid a finger on her, and rather explained Gracie's recall of her dad as one who played with her outside and purchased her new coloring pencils and notepads. They'd seemingly had a good relationship despite his despicable actions toward her mother and other young women. In all she was doing well, however the same could not be said for her mother. Maura was in every sense of the word, a broken woman. She'd sit statue still and watch as Gracie played, and while a small smile would grace her lips her eyes were devoid of emotion. She didn't initiate conversation with Jane or any of the nurses and any replies to questions were always given in short bursts or not at all. She's been sent for a psychological evaluation a few days into her stay, to which she answered none of the questions and quickly became distressed when she was separated from her daughter.

It wasn't until the day of her discharge from the hospital, while she was shrugging on a jacket of Jane's that was entirely too large for her, that she opened her mouth without a prompt. They were watching Gracie roll around on the floor, her new teddy bear help above her.

"If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be alive." She spoke clearly, but her voice was low and dead. Jane wasn't even sure if the words were even truly meant for her ears.

It took her a long while to decide whether to reply, and when she did, she tried to offer up a form of agreement. "She's worth living for." Her voice was equally as quite, worried she'd say the wrong thing and do even more damage to the woman beside her.

"I meant that if I hadn't have fallen pregnant, my fate would have been the same as all his other women. It might have been easier to be one of them." Her words came without a pause or thought that maybe they shouldn't be spoken, and it sent a shiver down Jane's spine.

Jane's apartment was small, consisting of two reasonably sized bedrooms and one bathroom. She'd had some time to clean and had even got the old crib her mother stored in the attic of their family home. It wasn't much bigger than the house the mother and daughter had been in before, but Jane certainly hoped it was a step toward recovery. The blonde didn't seem overly phased by her new living arrangements, although she rarely seemed bothered by anything. Sometimes, she barely seemed conscious. Her left arm was hooked in a sling and her face still echoed bruises and pain, but she didn't stop to complain. She followed Jane as she gave the pair a tour of their new – possibly temporary – home. Jane watched them both carefully, noting with curiosity that despite years of living away from any sort of civilization, Maura still toed off her shoes at the front door and lined them up by the shoe rack.

"I know it's not much, and unfortunately it's only a two bedroom house, but I got a crib from my Ma and set it up beside your bed for Gracie." The detective's voice was unusually soft and Maura nodded slowly as something between sadness and appreciation flickered briefly though her eyes. For a split moment, Jane thought she might understand a little of what the other woman was going through, how difficult it must have been to bring a child into the world without being able to provide for them something as simple as a place to sleep.

Jane directed the pair to the living room, waiting for Maura to sit down before she turned on the television and sat the remote in front of the blonde. There was a moment of hesitation on her part as she wondered whether she should hand the remote over or sit it on the table. She opted for placing it in front of Maura as she announced she was going to make them a hearty homemade meal – because hospital food just wasn't going to cut it.

The first scream sounded just after midnight and it startled Jane straight from a nightmare and out of bed. It was ear piercing and long winded, bouncing off the walls of the small apartment as Jane raced down the hall toward the sound, gun at the ready. She pushed the guest door open and flicked the light switch to find Maura sitting in the middle of the queen sized bed. Her thin limbs were wrapped around the source of the noise, her injured arm out of her sling and cradling her daughter. Gracie's eyes were red and swollen with tears, her little nails digging into her mother's arm as she watched Jane enter. It wasn't until the brunette saw Maura's mouth move that she noticed she was whispering something to the distraught little girl.

"It's okay," she heard as she lowered her gun. "Home is wherever Momma is, and I'm right here." Her voice was calm and quiet, but Jane noticed something hiding just under the surface of her tone. It was something far beyond sadness and she couldn't put her finger on it but it broke her heart all the same. The words sunk in and the detective realized the screams that had torn her from her sleep were more than just the nightly cries of a toddler, they were pleas to go home. The realization churned her stomach and formed a lump in her throat and she came to the conclusion that she was far out of her depth.

Before she could say anything, Maura turned to look at her. "I'm sorry for waking you." Her apology was sincere and teetering on the edge of dismissive. Jane shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. Perhaps she shouldn't have come in, after all the woman deserved a chance to finally parent her daughter in peace.

"Honestly it's not a problem. If you need anything, I'm just down the hall." She gestured to her right before turning on her heel, pausing with a finger on the light switch. "On or off?" She questioned, not wanting to make anything more difficult for the pair.

"Off," came Maura's sullen reply. "She's still not accustomed to all the light." Her words made Jane feel sick as she turned off the light and closed the door behind her. She wasn't a psychologist, and she was beginning to realise how under qualified she was to deal with this.


End file.
